Fariss and Eva Ryan


Fariss and Eva Ryan

August 14, 2015

Preface: The thoughtful introduction, his education and biography (aka. why on this blue sphere you might even think to listen to him jaw), a clever hook (to draw you in), and a one liner (to keep you reveling). These are a handful of the ingredients to most successful pieces of serious literature. The non-fictitious kind of literature.

If I may begin by asking a very interesting question: “Why do we define true stories by what they are not?” In the English languages we call stories that really happened, “non-fiction.” Why not simply call them what they are? After all, true stories are “history?”

As you read my posts, you’ll be able to learn about me. As you know about me you’ll find that I am not simply the sum of my stories. In this space, I may share stories that are historical, loosely historical, or made up for the purpose of allegory, but I will never be defined by my stories. I am not simply a story teller, blogger, cinematographer, writer, designer, b-boy, farm boy, singer, administrator, teacher, gardener, chef, barista, husband, coffee roaster, or (insert identity here). I am a son. I hope for all of my friends to one day understand that I am not what I do, but whose I am. I am not the sum of where I’ve been, but who it is I came from.

To the topic: I wish that more people would party. What I mean is that, I wish that more people would value celebration more than they do. If they do. There is not one child, and I am convinced some animals, that do not understand that partying is fun!

Now, I understand that the word, “partying” in our culture, carries more baggage than your average fifty pound carry on. The words that are synonymous with partying are and are not limited to: rambunctious, rowdy, inconsiderate, loud, drunken, frenzy, throw in a little bit of “sex”, “drugs” and “music” and you have yourself the “real deal.” I grew up in a town where the average age was sixty. No one can tell me that I’m in error about this. My parents once received a call from a disgruntled neighbor, because I was practicing the trumpet in our house during broad daylight. Anything louder than a few decibels and they’ll accuse you of having a “party.”

If you lived in the states from the late 1800s to early 1900s and were a working class person with poor living conditions you may also add in the word “weekends” to this list. Some say that’s where partying origin-ated, the weekends. Partying is where factory workers took a break from the “work” of “real life” and relaxed.  But please don’t believe every word that you just read! If you are one to contemplate, you may have paused for a moment to think about the kings and queens of old. You might have pondered on the idea that the earth and some of its civilizations are thousands of years old. Someone had to have partied once. For example: Harvest seasons turned into festivals for giving thanks to the deities for bountiful crops.

Where did partying find its origins?

The answer might shock you.


To make this very simple: Jesus’ blood is like wine.

When you drink it you cannot prevent wearing a perma-smile.


In some secular college classes, I had been known to spontaneously laugh out loud randomly, during a boring lecture. To be quite transparent, the proffessors were never dishonored or upset with me. Self control is experienced differently by those constrained by the Holy Spirit. In my defense, the syllabus never mentioned anything about enjoying my existence. Neither did the school rule book state that spontaneous laughter was any sort of issue. Wherever I went I brought the party with me. I am compelled to believe that partying is a spiritual discipline that the Christian should practice daily!


When you rest, relax and enjoy the gift of Jesus given to you, you can be sure that you are partying! Actually, historically, you’re joining in with the longest continuous party that mankind has ever not only been invited to, but brought to by Jesus Himself! (No Facebook event necessary).


I will re-introduce you once more to the world’s idea of “partying.” It involves a prodigal son who asks his father to drop dead, fork over his inheritance so that he can move to another country and waste it all on things like drugs, women, and casinos at ten grand a night. #PartyLife

When the hot shot showed up on his Father’s porch again basically dead, asking only to be a slave in his father’s house, the father practically said, “Oh nonsense. Put on some clothes, here’s the family name back. Get your lil booty to the event, we’re celebrating that you’re here!” Then to the servant he says “Kill the fatted calf! We’ll have a party and a feast!”

To add a footnote here, Robert Capon says it nicely: “The fatted calf proclaims that the party is what the Father’s house is all about, just as Jesus the dead and risen Bridegroom declares that the eternal bash is what the universe is all about. Creation, is not ultimately about religion, or spirituality, or morality, or reconciliation, or any other solemn subject; it’s about God having a good time and just itching to share it.” (p. 298 Kingdom, Grace, Judgement: Paradox, Outrage and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus).

I just recently celebrated my first wedding anniversary with my beautiful wife, Eva. As we drove to and from a city named Paradise, CA and we passed a highway! It was named: “Cana.”


“Cana” was the name of the city where Jesus preformed his first documented miracle! It was at a wedding! Towards the end of the night, when the people were a few barrels deep, Jesus decided to turn some dirty bath water into the best wine of the evening. If the people were not already shnuckered, I bet that they would have asked where they had gotten all of the wine from, and why the glasses were being filled from the large vessels that they washed their hands in earlier when they entered the venue. (sidenote: This is what Jesus did for us, he was the baby thrown out with all of our dirty bathwater).

Jesus turned water into wine for party guests who already had more than their fill. Now, in Jesus’ own words, he only did what he saw his Father doing. All I have to say is, “Ditto! On earth as it is in heaven!”

Let the party continue!